


How to Catch a Legendary

by chiefmomboss



Category: Pokemon GO
Genre: Gen, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 07:43:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7968274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiefmomboss/pseuds/chiefmomboss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Catching a legendary Pokemon is no easy task—so how did the team leaders catch theirs?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moltres

Candela had always wanted her Eevee to become a Flareon, but now that the orange fluffy beast sat in front of her, she didn’t know what to do with it. She was the same Eevee on the inside, following Candela around the house and laying on her feet at dinnertime, hoping for scraps. She seemed to remember everything Candela had told her—the same tackle and quick attack she’d always used, all Candela’s friends (well, the one, anyway), and the way to Candela’s school.

That was why she didn’t know what to do with Flareon. Worse than Mary and her little Mareep. Candela had rescued Eevee during a hurricane, and she was forever—maybe just a little too much so—grateful.

Her classmates laughed when the front desk secretary showed up to Candela’s third period classroom with her Flareon. They’d seen this happen several times a year since fourth grade, and apparently, it never got old.

Candela had started sitting closest to the door whenever possible to make her getaway quick.

Flareon, despite her fantastic ability to open the gate, was extremely well behaved. She had one goal only—be next to Candela. She figured this was why her teachers put up with the Pokemon interrupting class anyway. Flareon and Candela had always been an exemplary trainer/Pokemon team, except for the occasional escape.

Flareon could not be satisfied until she saw Candela, so she had to leave class to take her home.

Candela got up, grabbed her backpack and raincoat, and left her laughing classmates when the door latched behind her.

“I’m really sorry about this,” she said as she pat Flareon’s head to keep her from jumping on her uniform. “I thought we had the gate issue solved—then she evolved. I think she can jump it now.”

“You should consider a Pokeball,” the secretary said.

Candela pouted. Pokeballs weren’t exactly in her family’s budget. She’d spent all her savings on a fire stone in the first place.

Flareon didn’t even need a leash. She trotted alongside Candela, nudging her hand as they walked home.

“You need to stay at home,” she said. “You’re getting too old for this—you remember everything else but not that I come home every day at the same time?”

Flareon licked her hand.

“I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to,” she said. “I’d rather stay home with you—I’d rather go train at the gyms with you, actually.” She scratched Flareon’s ears as they walked.

Flareon bolted from her side, and Candela groaned as she chased a Rattata into the woods.

“You’re _kidding_ me,” Candela hollered after the Pokemon. “Get back here, you little punk.”

She ran after Flareon into the woods, ignoring the brush poking at her skirt and legs. She barely kept sight of Flareon’s bright yellow tail. The Rattata hid under a bush Flareon couldn’t get into and stopped, hopping around it and growling.

“What the hell,” Candela said. “Seriously, punk. I don’t have time for this.” She took the belt out of her raincoat and looped it around Flareon’s neck, gently tugging her in the right direction—or what she thought was right direction.

Flareon quickly forgot about the Rattata and trotted beside her trainer again. Candela didn’t remove the makeshift leash.

Candela followed the direction the trees seemed to thin. She glanced down once to see the rips in her uniform and scrapes and scratches on her legs. She couldn’t afford a new one.

They wandered out of the trees into a hiking path next to an old lava bed. Candela and Flareon walked on the path along the edge of the dried flow. She focused on the ground, partly to keep an eye on Flareon and partly to watch for dropped Pokeballs. She knew traveling trainers dropped them, but she had never spent much time looking—but since she was on the trail anyway she figured it wouldn’t hurt.

“Well, I guess I’m not going back to school,” she said. “Thanks, you little punk.”

Candela only missed a handful days out of the year because of Flareon escapes, but it didn’t help her already low grades. She was really only good at gym—which she credited to burning Flareon’s energy off so she’d sleep at night.

She managed to stay at least passably on track in everything else thanks to her one and only human friend, Phoebe. Phoebe helped Candela with her math homework, and Candela protected the small and nerdy Phoebe in dodgeball.

Sweat beaded and slipped down Candela’s face as they walked along the unshaded path overtop the active shield volcano that was Alola. She wiped her forehead on her sleeve, and something metallic shined in her eye down the path.

Candela broke into a sprint and Flareon followed. Sitting on the edge of the path in a crevice of dried lava—an actual Pokeball. She scooped it up, held it in both hands.

Flareon jumped up, sniffing and inspecting the ball in her hands.

“Just for school,” she said, slipping the Pokeball into her backpack. “That way you can come with me.”

A sudden burst of shade made Candela and Flareon look up. A huge golden bird with flaming wings flew over them, soaring for the high point of the island.

“Moltres, no way,” Candela said. She looked to Flareon. “Let’s go see if we can get close.”

She and Flareon jogged up the gentle slope of the hardened lava.

As they got closer to the top, everything felt hotter. The sun, the ground—lava flowed beneath them and trickled down the slope. They spotted a group of people near one of the lava rivers, and Moltres diving for them.

“Hey,” Candela called out. “Get out of here!”

The people, four adults bogged down with backpacks and cameras and equipment, looked to her.

“There’s a Moltres,” she snapped, pointing up at the sky.

The people looked up as Moltres swooped down. They were infringing on its lava—it wanted them gone.

Candela bit her lip as the people started to scatter. “Flareon,” she yelled. “Flamethrower!”

The Pokemon sprung forward and spit a stream of fire from her mouth as Moltres swooped down.

The Moltres became interested in Flareon and her, then, and Candela’s hands started to shake. “Pick on someone your own size,” she hollered at it.

The people, who she thought might be scientists as they were always wandering the lava beds, ran behind her.

Moltres spit fire at Flareon, who could outrun it but barely.

“Flareon,” she yelled. “We gotta get out of here, come on!”

Flareon started to sprint back to Candela, but Moltres came after her. Candela wrapped Flareon in her arms as Moltres swooped in. Tears sat in her eyes, but she wouldn’t let Moltres take just one of them.

Moltres stopped short of them. It cawed, making Candela’s ears ring. She dared look up from Flareon’s furry collar.

Moltres stared at her straight on. It flapped it’s wings but it didn’t move. She could feel the heat roll off the six-foot bird.

“What?” she said, holding Flareon tighter. “What’s your deal?”

The bird chirped at her.

Candela let go of Flareon, letting her take shelter behind her legs. She stood up straight. “What do you want?” she screamed. “You don’t have to hurt anyone.”

Moltres tilted its head.

“Whatever,” Candela said. “Leave these people alone. They’re just geologists anyway.”

She turned and stalked away, Flareon bolting after her. The scientists stood still in complete shock at the sweaty, scraped up teenager.

Moltres took off into the sky again, hopefully in search of a different lava flow down the mountain.

“You know,” she said, hands on her hips. “Legend has it that taking lava from the islands upsets the goddess of fire and brings people bad luck. Maybe you should leave it be.”

“Kid, you just told a legendary bird to piss off,” one of the scientists said. “And it _listened_.”

“Good,” she said. “Or you’d be lava yourself.”

Candela found the path again and followed it to the park ranger station. The rangers were more interested in bandaging the scrapes on her arms and legs and giving her and Flareon water than trying to get them home.

When she passed as okay enough, a ranger took her to the park entrance and let her walk home with a bottle of water in her hand. She and Flareon wandered back to the house, sometime after dark. Her parents weren’t even home to worry about her yet—still at work.

* * *

 

The next morning, Candela woke to a loud, familiar caw. She bolted up and looked out her window. Sitting in her backyard was Moltres.

She ran out in her pajamas, followed by Flareon, and stood in front of it. “What do you want?” she snapped.

It chirped at her and bent down to have it’s face close to her's again.

“I don’t have time for this,” she huffed. “Go away—aren’t you supposed to be on Cinnabar island anyway?”

Moltres bumped her forehead gently with the top of its beak and continued chirping like a Pidgey.

She pouted. She couldn’t have Moltres following her around, too.

Flareon ran in circles around the bird, wanting to play.

Candela walked inside and picked up the phone. “Phoebe,” she said. “I have a problem.”

“Candela, you always has a problem,” Phoebe answered. “I love you, but you’re kind of dramatic.”

Candela pouted. “This is sort of a— _legendary_ problem. Do you have a minute?”

Phoebe was at Candela’s gate within ten minutes, parking her bike against the peeling paint that was the side of the house. Candela grabbed Phoebe’s hand and dragged her into the backyard. Flareon trotted along beside them.

“Unless there’s Eevee puppies back here you have no reason to be this dramatic,” Phoebe said as she tripped trying to keep up with her friend.

“Worse than Eevee puppies,” Candela said. “Look.”

Moltres stood in the middle of the yard, its wings folded in but it’s lava crown feathers waving in the breeze. It chirped at the girls. Flareon ran circles around the bird.

“What. The actual. Fuck,” Phoebe said.

“I don’t know what to do with it,” Candela said. “It followed me home.”

“A legendary bird that’s millennia old and no one knows anything about just _followed you home_?” Phoebe said. “What are you—the Pokemon whisperer?”

“Okay, there’s more to it than that,” Candela said. “But essentially, yeah, it followed me home. I think it wants me to catch it but—I only have one Pokeball that I found on the trail yesterday and I need it for Flareon. Plus it’s definitely not a good enough one to keep Moltres in.”

“Dude, you are so getting called out of class to take Moltres home,” Phoebe said.

Candela melted to her knees at the thought. “This is not happening.”

“Yeah,” Phoebe said. “It is.”

Candela buried her face in her hands and groaned. Maybe she was a touch dramatic.

“Maybe the Pokemart people would just give you one? Because Moltres,” Phoebe said.

“I doubt it,” Candela said.

“I mean, what’s worse?” Phoebe offered. “Flareon or Moltres showing up at school.”

“Moltres,” she said.

Flareon growled as she ran to Candela. She hopped with her front paws in front of her trainer, demanding attention. Candela looked up to see Moltres spit a little fireball into the grass, and Flareon bolted after it. Moltres spit another one on the other side of the yard for Flareon to chase.

“Maybe they’d be fine together during the day,” Candela said.

“You can’t just leave a legendary bird in your yard,” Phoebe said. “Someone would notice. And then who knows—Team Rocket shows up at your door.”

Candela groaned. “I’ll try the ball I found but it’s just a regular Pokeball.”

“This thing is really cool, by the way,” Phoebe said.

Candela returned to the house to grab the Pokeball she’d found. She walked out into the yard.

Moltres stopped shooting fireballs in the grass for Flareon to chase and stomp out. Candela tossed the ball underhand at the bird, showering it in white light and zapping it in.

The ball rocked left and right for a moment before it locked and sat still.

“Dude,” Phoebe said. “What are you going to do with Moltres?”

Candela pouted. “I don’t know—take it back to Cinnabar island eventually. Isn’t that where it belongs?”

“Hey, you remembered that from mythology,” Phoebe said. She gave her friend an awkward side hug. “You’re getting better at studying.”

Candela sighed. “Can I drop out and go on a journey to beat an Elite Four or something now?”

“Anyone can do that,” Phoebe said. “I could become an Elite Four member. You’re going to do something much greater.”


	2. Articuno

Blanche sat on the gravelly shore of the arctic ocean. The herd of Seel and Dewgong lounging in the Arctic summer sun didn’t seem to mind them joining in—much different from their own species. Despite the weather being technically warm, the air was still cold and bit their cheeks, and they did their best to stay away from the below-freezing water.

But the baby Seels were wet from swimming lessons and they wanted Blanche to pet them.

Blanche smiled and obliged. One baby Seel flopped into their lap, and they were glad for the thick rubber boots and waders.

Blanche figured their parents knew as much as they loved glaciers and ice, they would rather study Pokemon. Their parents had no problem leaving them on the ocean’s shore with the Seels and Dewgongs while they went off to check equipment—like they had no problem adopting Blanche’s request to go by “they” and “them,” or taking a twelve-year-old to the arctic circle in the first place.

Blanche didn’t understand why the Dewgongs trusted them, a human, with their babies, but it didn’t surprise them. Blanche was generally quiet, kept their distance, knew not to provoke wild Pokemon. On the boat out here, Blanche read a book about Seel and Dewgong. They knew what body language to watch for, where not to touch the Pokemon, a whole list of attacks they could learn, noises they didn’t like and noises they did.

There wasn’t a book on how to make human friends the same way, however. Blanche had looked.

The herd suddenly started to retreat to the larger rocks farther back from the shore. Blanche looked around the shore to see if a big wave was coming in, a larger predatory Pokemon wandering around—but the shore was empty except them and the herd.

The sunlight faded for a moment, and Blanche looked up. Bright blue wings spread out in the sky, blocking the sun. Long ribbon tail waving in the wind behind. Blanche knew Articuno was in the arctic, but that’s all anyone knew. No one had gotten close enough to study them before. Anyone who had—probably met an untimely icy end.

They watched the bird soar over for just a moment before they realized—Articuno was headed for their family’s camp.

Blanche scrambled up and ran for the icy trail down the glacier side to get back to camp. They slipped a few times, eventually deciding to crawl on their hands and knees to get to the top faster.

The legendary bird had found their little camp and was blowing solid ice in streams from its beak. Blanche had never seen ice beam, but they knew it was trouble. They spotted their parents, backs pressed behind a jutting out of ice to hide from the Pokemon.

Articuno seemed more interested in destroying equipment than hurting their parents, but there was only so much equipment.

Blanche scanned the camp for something Articuno hadn’t destroyed, and spotted their morse code light. It was old, and the shutters made an awful squeaking that echoed in the vegetation-void glacier. The Seel and Dewgong herd always howled when they used it. Blanche took off for the the light and pushed it towards the Articuno. They flicked the light on and pulled on the cords to move the shutters.

The Articuno cried at the noise and turned around to find the source. It dove in their direction, too miffed to use ice beam, apparently.

Blanche ducked behind the spotlight and covered their face with their arms. Their heard a collective scream of their parents, followed by silence save the arctic wind.

Blanche slowly took their arms away to find the spotlight in tact, and Articuno in front of them, flapping their wings, staring at them.

“What?” they asked, watching the legendary bird closely. They could hear the bird sniff, breathe through their nose. Their entire attitude had changed—Articuno was confused.

Blanche sniffed themself.

Articuno was so ready to attack humans, but no record of it targeting wild Pokemon existed. Theories were that the bird was the protector of the ice and water Pokemon—and Blanche spent all morning playing with baby Seels. To another Pokemon, they probably reeked of Seel.

“It’s okay,” Blanche said, their voice shaking. “We—we’re not here to hurt you.” They reached out their hand. “We want to bring the ice back. We need this stuff to do that. We want to help you.”

Articuno craned their neck to get close to their hand, touching Blanche’s gloved fingers with the tip of its beak.

“The ice didn’t start to melt,” they said. “Before people came here, did it? You think we’re causing all this when we come here. Maybe other people mean harm, but we don’t. We want to fix what people have done. Protect the ice and all the Pokemon who live here.” Blanche dared to set their hand on Articuno’s beak. “I can show you. Somehow.”

Articuno blinked slowly like they understood. They came down from their hover and closed their wings.

Blanche’s whole body shook as they stepped backwards to one of the ice trackers—a metal pole fixed in the ice with a very sensitive GPS attached to it. “We measure how fast the ice is moving with this,” they said, pressing the button to get the screen to come to life. “It records where it is everyday. Then we measure how far the ice at the shore has moved back. And we can use the numbers to see how quickly its melting.”

Articuno’s head twitched like a small Pidgey as they spoke to them. They were listening, whether or not they understood.

“I can show you more,” Blanche said. “But you have to leave the machines be. I know they make some weird noises. I promise it’s okay. It’s all to help you.”

The legendary ducked their head down and nuzzled against Blanche’s chest, gently headbutting them. Blanche laughed, stroked their crown feathers.

Articuno stood up, interest peaked at footsteps behind them.

Blanche looked over their shoulder at their parents slowly walking toward them.

“Honey, are you okay?” their mom said.

Blanche nodded.

“You’re not keeping that thing, are you?” their dad said.

They looked up to Articuno, it’s head a solid foot from their own. “I think they just want the ice back.”

The bird had found something else of interest in the wreckage and cawed. They all looked over to the big dish satellite.

“Show them what is does,” Blanche said.

Their parents exchanged a look.

“I’m serious,” they said. “Explain it like you did to me. They just want to know. I don’t know if they understand, but they’ll listen.”

They followed the bird to the dish twice its size, talked to them like they were a person, explained the waves and how people could put information in them in send it to other people far away.

“We can send someone your call,” Blanche said to Articuno. They had settled down in the ice.

Blanche’s dad put the headset on and started the radio to try and reach someone. A fishing boat several miles off shore caught their signal.

“My kid just tamed Articuno,” he said into the microphone. “It—they—want to see how the satellite works. I guess. So—turn down your headphones this might be loud.”

Blanche nudged Articuno when their dad held the microphone up. “Go ahead. They can hear you.”

Articuno chirped at the mic.

Blanche’s dad unplugged the headphones so they could all hear the fisherman answer. “That kid of yours is going to places.”

“Legendary bird, been around for millennia, tamed by a twelve-year-old,” Blanche’s mother said. “What did you do?”

Blanche shrugged. “I smelled like Seel from the beach—I don’t know, they must know I didn’t want to hurt them. I think they’re all a lot smarter than we know.”

Articuno hung around the camp for the remainder of the trip. They sat with Blanche on the beach and played with the Seel and Dewgong herd, followed Blanche’s parents out to check all the equipment and take measurements. When they were packing up, Articuno kept following Blanche around, nudging them.

“You want to come?” they asked.

“We’re not taking that bird home,” their dad said.

“I don’t think we have a choice,” their mom answered. “We have a couple Pokeballs, but they’re not anything special. Maybe it won’t stay in one.”

Blanche retrieved a Pokeball from their bag and activated it without throwing it. Articuno dissipated in the light beam, and Blanche felt the Pokeball move once in in their hand before the ball locked and the light shut off.

“Have they ever caught a Pokemon before?” their mom asked. “I know that Eevee just kind of follows them around. Does it have a ball?”

Their dad shrugged. “We’ve got one hell of a kid, though.”

Blanche smiled and held the red and white Pokeball with both hands.


	3. Zapdos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a post from Tumblr user pkmn-trainer-touko-tajiri

“Sure, sweetie,” Spark’s mother said. She patted her little boy on the head, ruffling his hair. “Whatever you want.”

This was his mom’s response to any mentions he made of being a real Pokemon trainer.

But Spark had been saving his allowance for months until he’d saved up enough for a Great Ball, and when he showed it to his mom and said he was going to catch a  _ really _ good Pokemon, she patted his head and said, “Sure, sweetie. Whatever you want.”

Spark and his mom had just moved to town not too long ago, and he was too bashful still to play with the other kids. When he had seen them, they laughed at his hair.

“They’re just jealous,” his mom would say. “I love your hair.”

And she did. Every morning, she helped him spike it up just how he liked it.

Spark wandered outside with his mom’s permission to catch a Pokemon with his Great Ball. He followed the street out to Route 4, and he wandered into the tall grass.

He didn’t find the really good Pokemon he wanted, but he did find several Rattata and Pidgeys and Caterpi he got to come up to him. He let each Pokemon sniff his hand until it tapped his fingers to be touched. Spark was quiet and patient, something his mother didn’t seem to believe he could be. As more and more Pokemon passed his test, the less time it took.

He picked berries from a higher part of a bush the Rattata has stripped clean near the bottom. He took a Pidgey in one arm and climbed a tree to take it back to its nest.

Before Spark knew it, it’d grown dark out. And he still hadn’t caught his Pokemon. Unwilling to go home empty-handed, Spark stayed on the route even after his new friends had gone home to sleep.

He finished picking the ripe berries from the top of the bush for the Rattata to find in the morning. A swarm of Zubat flew overhead, making Spark jump. He looked up, and felt better when he realized what the noise was.

Behind them, higher in the sky, a big, gold Fearow flew over.  _ That _ was a  _ really _ good Pokemon.

Spark took off down the Route after the Pokemon, and he chased it all the way to the power plant. He came up to the fence, heard the hum of all the machines and electricity. He shook the gate to find it locked. The Fearow had landed in the middle of the whole plant.

Spark reached as high as he could and grabbed the fence. He pulled himself up, stuck his feet in the holes, and climbed to the top. He hopped down, falling when he landed, but he got back up and brushed off his pants.

He wandered the plant, watching for wires and cords and keeping his hands to himself. He could feel the static coming off some of the machinery.

The Fearow sat on top of a transformer, beak tucked into its folded wing, asleep.

“Hey,” Spark called. “Can I catch you?”

The Pokemon pulled its head up and stared right into Spark’s eyes.

“I need a Pokemon,” he said. “A  _ really _ good one.”

The golden bird spread its wings and dove at him. Spark covered his face with his arms, but the Fearow didn’t attack. He peered out from his hands. The Pokemon just hovered there.

He held his hand out like he had to the Rattata and Pidgeys and Caterpi.

The Fearow poked his palm and fingers with its beak.

Spark laughed. It tickled. “Will you be my Pokemon?” he asked.

The bird cawed at him, then took off.

“Wait,” Spark hollered. “I want to catch you.”

He took off after the Fearow, reaching for his Great Ball in his sweatshirt pocket. He tripped as he tossed the ball at the low-flying Fearow.

When he got up, he looked to where he’d thrown. The Great Ball struggled on the ground, rocking right and left, right and left—right and—it stopped.

The light shut off and the ball clicked to lock.

Spark quickly scooped up the Pokeball. He climbed the fence back out, walked down the route, down the street, back to his house. The light in the kitchen was still on. He pushed open the door. “Mom,” he said as he took his shoes off. “I caught a Fearow.”

He walked into the kitchen to find his mom talking to a police officer. They fell silent when he walked in.

“Mom,” he said, holding out his Pokeball. “I caught a Fearow.”

The officer and his mom exchanged a look. “A Fearow?” his mom said. “Good job, sweetie.”

The officer got down to be level with him. “You really scared your mom,” she said. “Next time don’t wander off so far by yourself. Take care of your Fearow.”

The officer left shortly after. His mom insisted he clean up, bandaged his scraped knee and finally asked, “Can I see your Pokemon?”

Spark nodded. “We have to go outside though. He’s too big.”

His mom obliged. Standing in their backyard, Spark took out his Pokeball and opened it.

The Fearow appeared before his mom and stood with its wings folded. His mom stepped back. “That’s not a Fearow, Spark,” she said.

“Of course it is,” Spark insisted. “It’s got the big wings and pointy crown feathers.”

“Where did you find this thing?” she asked.

“The power plant. He’s really cool, right?” Spark walked up to the Pokemon and stroked its beak. “This is my mom,” he said to the bird almost three times his size. “She’s really nice and makes good cookies.”

The Pokemon cawed again.

“Put him away,” his mom said.

Spark activated the ball again and returned Fearow to his ball. He yawned. “Can we go to bed?”

“Sure, sweetie,” she said, and patted his head. “Whatever you want.”


End file.
